The Winds of Change
by rhythmhearts
Summary: A Bones one-shot.    Bones is pregnant, but she hasn't told Booth yet. She wants to keep her memories of their first night together private a while longer.


Temperance Brennan stood in front of her bathroom mirror trying to catch her breath. She hated throwing up. She rinsed her mouth with water and picked up her toothbrush. She couldn't believe that she had morning sickness already. The irony was not lost on her that she could handle human remains more grotesque than anyone could imagine when she was at the lab without a bit of nausea, but the mere thought of food first thing in the morning had her running for the nearest bathroom.

She turned and examined herself in the mirror, her hand resting gently on her abdomen. Pregnant. She was pregnant. The idea of it… no, the sheer reality of it still hit her hard. She was smart about her life, even brilliant, and at heart she was a Girl Scout – always prepared. But that night, the night of Vincent's death, the topic of birth control never entered her mind. Call it grief, call it irresponsible… either way, she wasn't careful and now she was pregnant.

She had to tell him; she knew that she did. She was waiting for Angela's baby to arrive because she didn't want to steal any attention away from her best friend, but she couldn't wait much longer. Booth needed to know. She couldn't keep something this life changing from him for long. He knew her too well. She was surprised he hadn't yet figured it out.

She daubed concealer beneath her eyes to mask the dark circles that had appeared in the few days since she'd received the news of her pregnancy. She had been tossing and turning at night, trying to figure out the best way to tell Booth that he was going to be a father again. How would he react to the news? She wanted to believe that he would be happy, maybe even excited, but there was the nagging worry she couldn't shake that maybe, just maybe he would feel trapped and angry that she had not been more responsible. It wasn't all her fault, though. It took two to tango, and they certainly did tango! A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she remembered that night for what seemed like the hundredth time…

[Flashback]

"You're staying at my apartment tonight," Booth said.

She knew it was useless to argue. He was not going to take no for an answer, and in reality she didn't want to be alone. The shock of Vincent's death was still palpable. His last words haunted her. 'Please don't make me leave…' How could he have thought it was she who was making him go? She had enjoyed working with him, even when his recitation of inane facts sometimes interrupted their work, and he had been her favorite of the lab interns.

"Okay," she acquiesced and went to retrieve her bag and coat.

The ride to his apartment had been silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts. She stared out the car window, tears glinting in her eyes. She had tried not to cry – to not show weakness in front of her colleagues, but now, in the darkness of the car, her resolve was weakening.

"We're here," Booth announced as he parked the car, and she was pulled from her reverie.

"Yeah, thanks," she murmured. She followed him into the elevator and they rode up to his floor without speaking. Once inside the apartment, he pulled linens from a closet and put them on the couch.

"Bones, let me sleep on the couch. You can have the bed," he offered.

"No, no," she protested. "I'm smaller. I can fit on the couch. Plus, you have to kill Broadsky. You need your sleep."

He gave a wry smile. "That's very logical."

"Thank you, yes…"

"Oh, is this sweatshirt going to be okay?" He gestured toward the gray sweatshirt he'd given her to sleep in. He had felt it was too risky to even go by her apartment for clothes. Broadsky would be watching; he was sure of it.

"Yes, I'll be fine. Thank you."

"All right. Let me help you with the…"

"No, I can make the bed."

"You're right."

"Thanks, Booth."

"Right," he murmured. "All right."

She placed a pillow at one end of the sofa and followed him with her eyes as he walked to the bedroom.

"So… goodnight, Bones."

"Goodnight, Booth."

He looked at her for a long moment before closing the door behind him, and finally she was alone. She removed her blouse and slipped on the sweatshirt. She'd taken a pair of her scrub pants from the lab and she pulled them on and tied the drawstring. She lay down and tried to close her eyes, but she couldn't fall asleep. She turned on her side and rested her head on her arm. The sweatshirt had been recently laundered and the smell was familiar. It smelled like Booth and that comforted her, but she couldn't stop thinking about Vincent. She felt somehow responsible for his death. If he hadn't been working for her, he might still be alive. Tears began to run down her cheeks. She had to talk to Booth.

She tapped softly on the bedroom door before opening it. When she walked inside, Booth was sitting up in bed pointing his service weapon at her.

"I'm sorry…," she said, startled.

"What's wrong? Did you hear something," he asked nervously.

"No… I just…"

"You want me to put the gun away?"

"Yes."

He put the gun on the side table and gave her a questioning look.

"What is it?"

She sat down on the end of the bed and poured her heart out to him. He reassured her, as she knew he would, but the tears just wouldn't stop falling.

She leaned toward him and whispered, "Can I just…"

"Of course," he said softly, "That's why I'm here."

He held his arms out to her and she collapsed against his chest, her breath ragged with sobs. She cried and cried until there were no more tears to cry. He held her close and let her exhaust herself, occasionally murmuring comforting words, until she fell into a restless sleep.

When she opened her eyes, the first strains of daylight were peeking through the curtains. She was lying on her side and Booth was next to her, his arm flung over her hip. She needed to pee, so she slid out from beneath his arm and went into the bathroom. When she was finished, she splashed water on her face, her eyes still puffy from crying. She stood in the doorway and looked toward where Booth still lay sleeping. Perhaps she should go back to the couch…

As she passed the foot of the bed, she heard his voice.

"Where are you going?"

"I—I thought I'd go back to the couch… let you sleep."

"Come back to bed," he said, holding out his hand to her. "Please."

She lay back down next to him, her back to his chest, and he put his arm around her waist, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head and she felt his breath warm against her hair. She had never felt more safe, more… loved. Yes, loved. She knew he loved her, even though he had never said those exact words. She loved him too. No matter how many times she tried to deny it, to herself and everyone around her, she cared deeply for him.

"Bones?" he whispered.

She turned to face him and in the darkness she searched his eyes.

"Yes?"

His lips crashed down onto hers and she responded instinctively, her hips rising to meet his as she parted her lips, welcoming him. He slipped his hands beneath her sweatshirt and his thumbs brushed her nipples, which hardened at his touch. She moaned softly against his mouth, and he pulled back ever so slightly."

"Are you okay?" he breathed. "This is… okay?"

"Yes… yes…" she replied, and kissed him again and again.

Suddenly she felt very warm and she scooted away from him and sat up on her knees, pulling the sweatshirt over her head and flinging it to the end of the bed. Her full breasts were alabaster in the dim light. She heard his breath catch and she pulled on the drawstring of the scrub pants, letting them slip down her slender hips, exposing her pale pink lace panties.

"Jesus, Bones," Booth whispered.

"Make love to me, Booth," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "Please…"

Within seconds his clothing was scattered on the floor and she was back in his arms. She felt the warmth of his skin against hers and she was lost in him. She kissed her way down his neck to his smooth, firm chest, and back up again to his lips. His breath was coming hard and fast and his eyes were dark with need. He pushed her gently onto her back and covered her mouth with his. She felt his hands glide down from her breasts to her waist. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her thighs and then he was inside her, claiming her body as he had claimed her heart. She rose up to meet him as he moved, wanting more of him, all of him, again and again.

Now that she was finally here with him she never wanted it to end, but too soon she felt the familiar tingle that grew until it enveloped her entire body and she cried out against him as she let go. He was close behind her and she urged him into her until he could hold back no longer and lost himself in his own oblivion.

When they were still he rested gently against her and she could feel his heart pounding against hers.

He stroked her upper lip with his fingertip and then kissed her gently, once and then once more.

"Temperance…" he began.

She grinned up at him. "You never call me Temperance…"

"I love you," he said solemnly.

"I love you too, Booth."

[End Flashback]

Brennan was jolted from her thoughts by the ringing of the telephone.

"Brennan," she answered.

"It's me, Angela."

"Are you in labor?"

"Not yet. I just wanted to let you know that there's a case. Booth is on his way to pick you up."

"Thanks, Ange."

She put down the phone and began to get dressed. Booth was coming to pick her up. She felt her heart skip a beat. She couldn't wait to see him, to kiss him and hold him close where no one else could see them. It wasn't time for everyone to know about them just yet. For a while longer, it would just be the two of them. And she would tell him… she would… somehow.


End file.
